I’m a roaming writer. If it’s summertime, I’ll write on the enclosed porch where there’s the most light. If I have to reorganize a novel, I’ll write in the living room with papers spread out all over the floor. If I have time at work, I’ll open a notebook and start. But the place where I spend most of my time writing these days is upstairs in the computer room. Because now I have a writing window.
The computer room used to have one long window looking out on the river. It was not uncommon to find me seated before the computer but leaning the other way, trying to see out the window. I needed a view. I needed the serenity and beauty of the flowing river to fill my writing soul.
We talked about putting in more windows. Then the windows appeared on a trip to the home store. Returns at a third of the price. They called to us and we answered. Now we have a bank of three windows on that wall, letting in glorious light. But my favorite window is the one I sit in front of while I’m writing. A slight shift of my eyes to the left, and there’s my river, filling me up.